


An Unspecial Occasion

by ckret2



Series: RadioSnake Discord - Spicy Showdown Week [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor's completely disinterested in the sex but he has an alright time, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Double Dicks, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Smut, Stream of Consciousness, Virgin Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), he thinks it was sorta mediocre but worth trying once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: A list of all the topics currently on Alastor's mind, from most to least fascinating:1. The tempos of old vaudeville and jazz songs.2. How beautifully flexible Sir Pentious's back is.3. A science lesson about waves that he saw as a schoolboy.4. Does food taste different in Hell, or did Alastor's sense of taste change when he died?5. There is a dick in his butt.
Relationships: Alastor/Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: RadioSnake Discord - Spicy Showdown Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732291
Comments: 10
Kudos: 140





	An Unspecial Occasion

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm in a Radiosnake discord that's having a NSFW event this week called [Spicy Showdown](https://hanekdraws.tumblr.com/post/616864101916983296/were-having-our-first-event-on-the-radiosnake), which includes a prompt each day. Today's Day 1: "Taking Alastor's Virginity". I've read & heard _plenty_ of allo "losing virginity" stories, I wanted a story with an ace character who doesn't give a crap about having it and doesn't give a crap about losing it.
> 
> A series of absolute _nonsense_ took up most of my day and prevented me from finishing this hours earlier in the day so I'm posting it without proofing in an attempt to get it up before Day 1 ends in someone's timezone somewhere.
> 
> If you've read any of my other radiosnake fics: this is connected to absolutely none of them. Also: y'all have survived a lot of angst out of me, here's some fluff.

"Huh," Alastor said. "So _that's_ what that feels like."

Sir Pentious stopped moving. "Any pain?"

Alastor squinted thoughtfully. "No..."

"Do you want me to pull out?"

"No, no." Alastor patted Sir Pentious's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm just... getting used to it. It's unusual."

Sir Pentious relaxed, sinking down onto his elbows so he could press his torso against Alastor's without pushing any further into him. "How does it feel?"

Alastor considered the question for a moment. "Like pooping in reverse."

Sir Pentious buried his face in Alastor's shoulder and laughed so hard it came out as wheezes.

Alastor could feel Sir Pentious trembling _inside_ of him as he laughed. It would have been a fascinating experience—if the sensation wasn't entirely centralized in Alastor's anus, which just made it weird. He gave Sir Pentious a moment to recover, then lifted one hoof and tapped his dewclaws on Sir Pentious's butt. "So." He tilted his head so he could see Sir Pentious's dicks, comparing the two of them so he could see how little the one had actually entered him. "Were you planning to just stand in the doorway? Or are you going to come on in?"

"Shhh-ssh-ssh." Sir Pentious was still laughing as he tried to shush Alastor. "Try to be less witty for a minute."

"A whole minute? I don't know about that."

"Thirty seconds." Sir Pentious kissed Alastor's neck, and Alastor felt one of his dicks sliding along his inner thigh as the other slid deeper into him.

His initial assessment remained unchanged.

Aside from the strange sense of something foreign slithering up Alastor's butt, this really wasn't much different from things he'd done with Sir Pentious plenty of times before. Sir Pentious's hands exploring Alastor like the sharp tips of knives teasing his skin; Alastor's hands exploring Sir Pentious, memorizing the texture of his scales. The same two bodies, the same mouths and teeth, the same eyes, the same voices. The sole differences were his missing underwear and the strange insertion.

If anything, this was a step down from "mere" heavy petting. Alastor had spent a century wondering what the big fuss was over sex; now he wondered why it got any fuss at all. Maybe, as he'd long suspected, it was like any other thing forbidden to children—exciting only because of its novelty and because of the way that forbidding something inspired a hunger to experience it—although that didn't explain why so many full adults were so dopily obsessed with the act once they'd tried it out once and discovered it wasn't the big deal it was made out to be. Maybe because they couldn't stand admitting to themselves that something they'd wondered about for so long wasn't worth the fuss? Maybe because they just didn't have any hobbies—

Sir Pentious hit _something_ that made Alastor produce: a fragment of some operetta song with romantic strings and passionate soprano, " _Ah, sweet mystery of—_ "; a static-laced "What the f—"; and a loud beep to cover up the expletive as he slapped a hand over his own mouth.

Sir Pentious laughed again. " _There_ it is!"

Alastor stared at Sir Pentious. Uncovering his mouth, he croaked, "'It'?"

Sir Pentious slid back slightly, and Alastor had just enough time to re-cover his mouth and scramble to hook a leg around Sir Pentious's waist for stability before he thrust again against that spot. " _—life, at last I've found—_ "

Sir Pentious pulled back, smirking smugly. "It."

Alastor cleared his throat with a hiss of feedback. "Is that the, uh—"

"Prostate?"

" _Huh._ " Alastor's voice was a bit higher than he thought it should be. "I'd heard rumors."

"Pff." Almost innocently, Sir Pentious said, "It's like I'm playing a street organ." He pantomimed turning a crank with a hand, rolling his hips like he was threatening to thrust back in with each turn of the imaginary crank. "Every time I rotate it, it plays a little more of the song. If I keep going are you going to play the whole thing?"

A snicker escaped behind Alastor's hand, almost drowned out by his studio audience's laughter. "Only one way to find out."

As it turned out: he didn't. Once Alastor got used to the unusual new stimulation, it quickly faded into little more than background noise—albeit _pleasant_ background noise—as Alastor turned his attention to what _he_ should be doing to contribute to this activity.

He was, in fact, not quite sure at all what he should be doing to contribute to this activity.

He lowered his raised leg so he could try to angle his hips better into Sir Pentious's, but all things told, the contribution seemed rather superfluous.

He'd hoped for kissing—despite the fireworks when Sir Pentious made contact just right, Alastor quickly concluded that he still thought kissing was better—but as it turned out this whole activity was a little too vigorous to allow for an easy lip-lock. Maybe if they practiced more at this they could figure out how to keep their heads relatively steady while their hips were flapping wildly around, but right now it didn't seem particularly feasible. Biting was still on the table, at least—Alastor got his arms around Sir Pentious's back and pulled him close enough that he could sink his teeth into his shoulder, which was met with a gasp of pain and a groan of approval—and with his teeth latched in he didn't have to worry about his head getting shaken around.

He could taste Sir Pentious's blood around his teeth. Alastor was reminded, as he often was, that blood tasted a little different in Hell than it had in life. Something a little sweeter underneath the iron. That had been his impression the first time he'd tasted it, anyway: _sweeter_. It was only through the memory of that first impression that he could recall that blood had once tasted different. It had been so long he'd forgotten the original flavor altogether.

Many things tasted different in hell, sometimes slightly, sometimes drastically; usually he told himself it was because the ingredients in Hell were such a different (and poorer) quality compared to the ingredients he'd had access to on Earth, but sometimes he wondered if it was his tongue that had changed after death. He had no way to tell. The only way he could check would be by going back to Earth and trying the food there to compare, seeing if it was different from Hell's food—what if he thought Earth's food tasted strange, though? Would that prove Alastor's sense of taste had changed or that the flavor of whatever Earth food he was trying had drifted away from how it had tasted in Alastor's time?

He was dragged out of his thoughts when a particularly enthusiastic thrust jostled him enough that he almost bit his own tongue. He stopped absent-mindedly licking at the bite he'd left on Sir Pentious's shoulder, pulled his tongue back in, and kissed the bite mark. Right. Focus on the task at hand. What should he be doing now?

He trailed lighter nibbles up Sir Pentious's neck. Sir Pentious flared his hood, brushing back Alastor's bangs as it moved, to expose more of his neck to Alastor's teeth. _That_ was a lovely reaction; better keep nibbling. It cut off the option for talking, though. Pity. Talking was usually the best part. He wasn't sure how he was going to fill the time if he wasn't talking. He _definitely_ wasn't sure what he could do for _Sir Pentious_ if he wasn't talking. Nibbling wasn't going to be interesting for very long, was it?

Handjobs were probably a safe bet—lucky Sir Pentious still had a free member, this wouldn't be an option with anyone else. Alastor slid a hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Sir Pentious's second dick. Sir Pentious almost immediately shifted the angle of his thrusting so that he could buck into Alastor's hand as well. Good! Spectacular maneuver! He was awarding himself a ten out of ten.

He wrapped his free arm around Sir Pentious's back, shut his eyes, and focused on trying to roll his hips and hand to match the pace of Sir Pentious's thrusts—

"Alastor?" Sir Pentious's voice was a husky hiss, hardly above a whisper.

Brightly, Alastor said, "Yes?"

"Why are you sswitching stations?"

"What?" It took Alastor a moment to figure out Sir Pentious was talking about the selection of songs he was audibly flipping through. "Oh! Just trying to find one that matches your tempo, darling."

Sir Pentious drew back to give Alastor a dubious look. "Why?"

Alastor attempted to think of a why. He shrugged. "It seemed like the thing to do."

Sir Pentious attempted to look exasperated. The attempt was defeated by the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How about you pick the song and I'll match the tempo. Seems easier."

Alastor's grin stretched wider. "How do you feel about Gene Austin?"

Sir Pentious settled down on Alastor, elbows on either side of his ribs and fingers laced over his chest. "As long as it's not that blue eyes one."

The fact that Sir Pentious _knew_ about that blue eyes one delighted Alastor more than he could say. "'My Idea of Heaven'?"

"Is the gist of the lyrics going to be 'heaven is being with you, who needs that other place'?"

A bell rang. "Got it in one."

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be an absolute sssap?"

Alastor would have retorted, if it weren't for the fact that Sir Pentious had decided to flick the tips of his forked tongue against Alastor's lips as he hissed. Instead Alastor stuck his tongue out to poke Sir Pentious's.

Sir Pentious huffed, pushed himself up, and started thrusting again as the music started. Alastor resumed his prior position, one hand around Sir Pentious's free cock and the other around his back, and tried to get back into the rhythm.

"This song is positively saccharine," Sir Pentious murmured into Alastor's hair, audibly amused. "It's almost _too_ cute to do anything lewd to."

"You can pick the next one."

Sir Pentious snorted, then slid a hand between their bodies to adjust Alastor's grip so both of their hands were holding their dicks together. Oh, that was kind of nice, it was like holding hands. Holding hands while two shaved baby ferrets tried to slip in and out of their grip.

He considered whether Sir Pentious would be amused by the comparison and decided to save it for later.

He could feel the way Sir Pentious's back undulated under his hand: a single smooth wave traveling along his spine from his shoulders and down toward his hips in sync with each thrust. He wished he could see it instead of just feel it; he loved watching how Sir Pentious's muscles moved, admiring his curves, his inhuman flexibility. The wave rolling down Sir Pentious's back with each thrust reminded Alastor of a science experiment he'd seen as a boy in school, where the teacher held a rope in one hand and had a student hold the other end and flicked her end of the rope up and down to demonstrate how a single solitary wave rolled down the entire length of the rope. He wondered if the wave along Sir Pentious's back traveled all the way down his tail or if it stopped at his hips where he thrust. Alastor slid his legs closer to Sir Pentious's tail, squeezing lightly around him in an attempt to feel whether his tail rolled the way his back did.

"Ohh, _yesss._ " Sir Pentious groaned and thrust hard enough that Alastor produced a random sound effect. (Alastor wished it hadn't been the bicycle horn.) "Like that. Tighter."

"As you wish!" Alastor could figure out the tail-wave thing later.

Sir Pentious sped up, each thrust sharper and jerkier (Alastor briefly considered switching to a faster song, but— _ah-HAHH, sweet mystery of_ —he didn't think it was going to matter in a few seconds) and Alastor let his head loll back, white noise washing over his vision—

Well. There was that over with.

He waited a few seconds to catch his breath, then wrapped his arms around Sir Pentious's waist so he could roll them both onto their sides. Sir Pentious, who Alastor was pretty sure _had_ been basking in the moment, yelped, spasmed in Alastor's grip, then hissed at him in halfhearted annoyance.

Alastor chuckled. "Something wrong?"

" _Warn_ me," Sir Pentious said primly. He shifted a bit to slide out of Alastor—Alastor suppressed a grimace, oh, that was _not_ a hole that should _ever_ feel wet—and slid his arms over Alastor's shoulders to circle loosely around his neck. "So? How was it?"

"Uh..." Alastor was very conscious of how his tail was curled up near his back to keep it from touching the fluids on his own butt. "Next time, I'm thinking condom. Or pull out, I'm happy with either."

"If I pull out, it's just going to get on you."

Alastor pulled back slightly to examine the mess on their stomachs. "I can live with that."

"You can live with that—but did you _enjoy_ it?" Sir Pentious pressed. "You don't like being filled, that's fine, but did you like it?"

Alastor shrugged. "It was alright."

"It was alright," Sir Pentious repeated scornfully, as if this was a damning indictment. "It's not like you to be this circumspect, Alastor."

"But it _was_ alright," Alastor insisted.

"I am _not_ settling for 'alright,' you deserve _far_ beyond 'alright.' What do you prefer?"

"Well..." He considered the question a moment, then shrugged again. "Talking to you. Dancing."

"I meant _sexually_ ," Sir Pentious said, before giving Alastor a considering look and asking dubiously, "Unless dancing is your kink?"

"Ha! I don't think so."

"Then what else?"

"I don't know, I don't have any basis for comparison."

"What do you m—" Sir Pentious fell silent, staring at Alastor, eyes slowly widening, until he sat up abruptly. "You _what?!_ "

"What?" Alastor echoed, suppressing a laugh, as amused by Sir Pentious's reaction as he was baffled.

"You mean this is your _first time_ , at _all?!_ "

"I told you I haven't done this before!"

"I thought you m—I th— _On the receiving end_ , not _altogether, ever!_ "

"Oh!" Alastor did laugh that time. "Well—altogether, ever!"

"And you didn't _tell me?_ " Sir Pentious asked, exasperated, flinging his hands in the air.

"It didn't seem notable."

"Didn't seem—! You waited over a cccentury and you don't think that's notable?!" Sir Pentious flopped back down next to Alastor, hands flung over his face in despair. "I sshould have made it _ssspecial!_ "

Alastor considered saying that he didn't think anything about the act was that special to begin with; and he considered joking that he couldn’t think of any way to spend an evening that was more special than feeling fluids dripping out of his own butt; but he didn’t think Sir Pentious would appreciate either answer. So he settled on, "But it _was_ special. It was with _you_. What could be more special than that?" The studio audience cooed in schmaltzy appreciation.

Sir Pentious whapped Alastor's ankle with his tail tip. "I can _tell_ you're trying to be romantic on purpose when your ghost voices do that."

"I was going for smooth, not subtle."

Sir Pentious rolled his eyes at Alastor—Alastor could tell even with Sir Pentious's face covered, it was visible all the way up and down his tail—and then rolled over, face down on a pillow.

Alastor played back a sad violin song.

Muffled, Sir Pentious grumbled, "You husssh." 

Alastor swallowed down a chuckle, turned off the music, and flopped onto his back. How was he going to bring Sir Pentious's mood back up? He certainly wasn't going to _apologize_ , that would be absurd— _so sorry I didn't let_ you _give_ me _a special time_ , absolutely ridiculous—but what else could he say?

He elbowed Sir Pentious lightly. "You said I waited over a century," he said. "I didn't, you know. You... you wait for a parade to go by. Or for your favorite song to come on the radio. Or for a target to come close when you're hunting. You _look forward_ to those things. You _anticipate_ them."

Sir Pentious muttered something, but Alastor didn't pick it up, so he forged onward: "I've never been to Pandaemonium. I hear it's lovely—little city built entirely by fallen angels, all those museums, how couldn't it be?—but I've never visited. Never made plans to, don't ever intend to. I'm not _waiting_ to visit. Some people plan pilgrimages there, it matters to them. It doesn't to me. But, if somebody invited me to take a sight-seeing trip to Pandaemonium—somebody I _wanted_ to spend that kind of time with—I certainly wouldn't say no. And—well—even if the trip _itself_ was average, I think the fact that I made it at all when I might never have gone otherwise is a sort of special, isn't it?"

He turned to check on Sir Pentious's facedown form. No reaction. Alastor wondered how he could breathe like that.

He looked back at the ceiling. "And since it really isn't a big deal to me, if I _did_ get that sort of invitation, it might not occur to me to mention that I hadn't been before." He watched Sir Pentious out of the corner of his eye.

No reaction. But after a moment, Sir Pentious shifted enough to mumble, "You really haven't visited Pandaemonium?"

"Really," Alastor said. "Why, how weird is that?"

Sir Pentious slithered an arm across Alastor's waist and tugged him closer. "You really have no appreciation for any form of culture that doesn't fit beneath a phonograph needle, do you."

Alastor laughed. "I _do_ cook, you know!"

"A phonograph needle or a fork and knife."

"You've got me pegged."

Sir Pentious nuzzled into Alastor's shoulder. "I'm taking you to Pandaemonium," he said. "At least I can do _that_ right for you."

Alastor thought Sir Pentious had done _this_ alright, too; but he didn't want to oversell how much he'd really enjoyed the whole activity. Upon reflection, he thought he _had_ enjoyed himself, yeah; but he wouldn't have if he'd been doing it with anyone except Sir Pentious. And off the top of his head, there were about a thousand things he'd enjoy doing with Sir Pentious more.

Alastor leaned his head against Sir Pentious's. "I'll look forward to it."

**Author's Note:**

> Mildly Interesting Footnotes:
> 
> • "a fragment of some operetta song with romantic strings and passionate soprano" - This song is "[Sweet Mystery of Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xpKeabZlEs)," a song from a 1910 operetta set in historical New Orleans called _Naughty Marietta_. But more importantly, it's the song ladies keep singing in _Young Frankenstein_ any time they get fucked real good.  
> • "It's like I'm playing a street organ." - [This is a street organ](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6b/Austrian_BarrelOrgan.jpg) and  
> [this is a man jamming out as he plays Smooth Criminal on one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnb7EqfykF4).  
> • "My Idea of Heaven" - [This song is SO sappy.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G37LBKr4NRs) Lyrics [here](https://lyricsplayground.com/alpha/songs/m/myideaofheavenistobeinlovewithyou.html).  
> • "the teacher held a rope in one hand and had a student hold the other end" - you can actually see this kind of thing more easily with a slinky or with [this thingy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUQkG1A0_Sk) but Alastor predates slinkies so [here's a rope](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klN2-bCzJb4). I have no idea if the physics of waves was part of normal public school educations in the 1900s/1910s but maybe Alastor's teacher was a nerd.  
> • "Alastor wished it hadn't been the bicycle horn." - I honestly don't need to give you a link for this but [I'm sorry this mental image is just making me crack up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HzVOCbaT3M), imagine if that went off every time someone thrusts into someone else  
> • "Alastor played back a sad violin song." - ["Hearts and Flowers"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uS5xPWfxPY&feature=youtu.be&t=24) was played so often as Generic Sad Music accompanying silent movies that by 1919 people had started using it sarcastically instead, and it's 100% what I imagine Alastor playing when he wants to make fun of someone being dramatic.  
> • "I've never been to Pandaemonium" - Pandæmonium is listed as the capitol of Hell in _Paradise Lost_ and was built by fallen angels. This is everything I know about Pandæmonium. I'm imagining it looks like fancy ancient Roman buildings in Rome.
> 
> The post for this fic is on [tumblr](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/617255969900150784/an-unspecial-occasion). If you enjoyed the fic, I'd appreciate a reblog or a comment (either on tumblr or here)!


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